Chapter Four
Ezra
“You know, you didn’t have to come all this way,” I said as Shane handed me a martini, the noise of the packed bar around us ringing in my ears. “I was fine.”
“Don’t argue,” Shane said with a sanguine smile as Eric slid an espresso martini into his hand and kissed his cheek. “Just say thank you, darling, and drink your martini.”
“Thank you, darling,” I said and sipped my cocktail. It was better than I’d expected, which was probably the reason they’d insisted on coming here. Shane and Eric did not do cheap or inferior drinks, and heaven help the poor sod who tried to pass off cheap vodka as Belvedere.
I hadn’t anticipated the pair of them turning up at my flat last night as I was getting back from work, but apparently they’d decided on a “spontaneous weekend away” and had just so happened to have found a nice hotel in Lincoln for an exceptionally good price.
It was a fucking lie, but I was still grateful for it.
It meant a lot knowing I had people in my corner when it felt like my life wouldn’t stop falling apart.
I kept waiting for the hits to stop coming, but they didn’t.
They’d simply spaced themselves out and snuck up on me when I least expected it, hitting me in the gut and knocking me breathless as my heart reeled from the onslaught of memory and emotion.
But at least if Shane and Eric were here, they’d be able to catch me.
“Good boy,” Shane said with a wink. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Don’t start with me. You won’t like where it goes,” I said, chuckling fondly over the rim of my glass.
“I might.”
Eric snorted, putting his hands in the small of his husband’s back and pointing to the stairs in the corner. “Before you start anything, go and see if there’s anywhere for us to sit upstairs. I’m too old to have this conversation standing.”
“Baby, you’re barely forty.”
“Exactly and my knees are fucked from twenty-plus years of bad decisions.”
I laughed because my body felt the same and I was only a couple of years younger than Eric.
Then again, we’d all spent our twenties on the London party scene together, doing a lot of drinking, dancing, drugs, and fucking as many cute guys as possible, and continuously making choices that were starting to come back to haunt us.
We’d done things like stay up until five, go to the gym in an attempt to sober up, shower, turn up to work at nine having drunk three cans of Red Bull and two double espressos while clutching a croissant from Pret and wearing sunglasses and had thought nothing of it.
Except now my back hurt, my knees ached, too much caffeine made me nauseous, and anything less than seven hours of sleep made me feel like a walking corpse.
And I was starting to regret not developing a skincare routine until I was thirty.
Reed had always said we deserved to live to prove to everyone who’d wanted us dead that we’d always be here.
To defy everyone who hated us by refusing to be forced into the boxes society had tried to force on us.
And I still agreed with him. Life was for living, for enjoying, for wringing every last drop of joy out of.
But he’d taken that joy from me, and I didn’t know if I’d ever get it back.
“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Eric asked quietly as his eyes flickered over to watch Shane heading for the stairs, his gaze unsubtly fixed on his husband’s arse.
“How can you tell?”
He shrugged, turning his head back to me and smiling, almost sadly. “You get this look in your eyes, a slightly faraway one, like you’re reliving something. And like you’re never quite sure if you should be happy or sad about it.”
“I don’t,” I said. “Know, that is. I want to hate him, and maybe I do, but also we shared so much for so long. It feels like so much of who I am is tied to him, and I’m still trying to figure out what parts of me are me and what’s him.
It’s like trying to unpick a really fucked-up, tangled ball of wool or something. ”
Eric nodded. “It has to be hard, especially since you knew him for so long. I can’t imagine trying to figure out who I am without Shane. I don’t know if it would be possible. Sorry, that makes me sound like a right twat.”
“Yes, but it means you get it. I’d rather you be honest than offer me bullshit platitudes about finding myself.
” I’d had so much advice and sympathy from other well-meaning friends that I was about ready to scream the next time someone said anything about self-discovery or how unpacking my relationship with Reed would bring me peace.
I didn’t want peace. I wanted my fucking life back.
And my house, but that wasn’t up to me apparently.
God, I hoped the solicitor I’d hired was worth the extortionate amount of money I was paying him.
“Happy to help,” Eric said as Shane appeared above us and waved wildly at the doorway behind him.
Which could only mean he’d found somewhere for us to sit.
“And if that means buying you a ton of martinis and distracting you with endless stories about our nightmare kitchen renovation, then we can do that.” He laughed.
“Wow, I sound so old. Since when was kitchen renovations our go-to conversation?”
“And yet, I want to hear all about it.” I meant it too. If only because it might make me feel slightly better about the shitbox of a kitchen I was currently being forced to endure.
I took another sip of my martini before following Eric towards the stairs, my eyes casually roaming around the bar.
The summer weather had clearly encouraged people to find somewhere to spend the afternoon with cold drinks on tap, and most of the tables and booths were already full, including the tiny metal tables on the pavement outside the front window.
There were more people crowded around the bar, many of them looking around for somewhere to sit, the noise level increasing with every passing second until I could barely hear myself think.
I doubted it was going to be any quieter upstairs either.
As I stepped around another group of people spilling over the small table they’d acquired, my gaze landed squarely on a man standing at the far end of the bar, surrounded on either side but clearly on his own.
I knew who it was without a closer look because I’d seen his face so much at work it would be impossible for me not to recognise him.
Danny Wheeler, one of the Knights wingers and owner of the most ridiculous haircut I’d seen since the days of frosted tips.
He glanced away when he saw me, grabbing the cocktail menu on the bar and staring at it like his life depended on it. Too bad it was upside down.
I smirked as I sipped my drink, a strange feeling bubbling in my stomach.
Danny was a good-looking man, there was no denying that, and he knew it too—I’d seen it in the way he postured and posed, walking around the training fields half-naked as soon as the sun was out.
But there was something else too and I didn’t even know if he realised he was doing it.
Whenever he saw me, he stared.
And not in a bored, switched-off way, like he didn’t give a fuck about whatever content we were supposed to be filming or discussing.
But in a focused, interested way, almost like a curious puppy tilting his head trying to figure out the thing in front of him.
Or perhaps, in Danny’s case, the feelings inside him.
Because I’d seen those looks before from guys who were starting to work out things about themselves but weren’t really sure how to go about doing anything about it.
And fuck, they were my weak spot. I couldn’t help it.
Was it bad? Maybe. Predatory? I hoped not. Although maybe it would be now I was thirty-eight, not twenty-two.
Danny looked at me over the top of the menu again, then jumped when the bartender arrived to ask him what he wanted. I couldn’t hear what he was saying but he was chatting animatedly, the same way he always did, and laughing. Maybe at his own foolishness. Maybe at something the other guy had said.
Either way, it was endearing.
“Hey, Ezra, are you coming?” Eric called from the top of the stairs and I froze, because for a minute I’d completely forgotten I was supposed to be joining him and Shane.
“Er, yeah,” I said, glancing up at him. “Is there a bar upstairs? If not, I’ll order another round before I come up to keep us going. Save one of us coming back down.”
“Let me check.” Eric disappeared and I used the time to check on Danny, who was still stood at the bar paying for his drink. Good, that meant he wouldn’t be leaving any time soon.
Although why that would matter, I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have been thinking about going anywhere near him.
But fuck it, I had a thing for cute puppies and I was single, lonely, bored, and bordering on vaguely self-destructive. And if he wanted to tell me to sod off, he would. I had no doubt about that.
Besides, it wasn’t like I was going to do anything. I had guests. Nosy guests. Guests who would absolutely give me shit for not returning with drinks, although maybe they’d forgive me if they saw Danny. Shane did have a thing for men in rugby shorts.
That would be the thing he actually gave me shit for, especially since I’d told him I didn’t care about the players. And yet here I was, planning to corner one in a bar because he couldn’t stop watching me.
Fuck, that sounded creepier than I’d thought it would.
“No, there isn’t a bar up here,” Eric said from above me. “Are you okay to get another round? Shane wants another espresso martini, please, and I’ll have an old fashioned.”
“Sure, I can get those,” I said, shooting him a smile and draining the last of my first martini. “Back in a minute.”
I wound my way back through the room, casually aiming for the end of the bar, sliding in amongst the crowd and stepping around a couple of people until I found myself next to Danny.
I put my empty glass down, barely glancing at him and pretending I didn’t know he was there as I tried to catch the attention of one of the bartenders.
But since it was so busy, I knew I’d be waiting a while.
“Pina colada?” asked a dark-haired woman, her hair slicked back into a high ponytail, as she looked between Danny and me with a tall glass in hand. There was a large wedge of pineapple on the edge with a cocktail cherry resting on top of the drink’s creamy surface.
“Er, that’s mine,” Danny said almost sheepishly, lifting his hand slightly. The woman smiled and put it down in front of him, then looked at me.
“Give me two seconds, and I’ll be right with you.”
“No rush,” I said as she scooped up my empty and strode off down the bar. I tilted my head and smiled at Danny, who was frowning at the glass like he expected it to bite him. “That looks good. I haven’t had a pina colada in years.”
“I’ve never had one before,” he said, picking up the cherry and tossing it into his mouth, pulling the stem until it popped free. And for a second I wondered if I should tell him I could tie knots in cherry stems with my tongue.
Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell had come over me?
“What do you usually drink?”
“Whatever’s on tap. But, er, I’m doing this thing where I try new stuff. See how I like it. And, I don’t know, it sounded pretty good.”
“They usually are. And they’re stronger than what you get on tap too. People make fun of cocktails, but they’re the fastest way to get you wasted.”
Danny grinned cheekily, his eyes sparkling. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
“Of course I am,” I said with a smirk. “You should try them on the next team night out. Or do something like a cocktail-making class.”
“Not sure we could do that with all of us, but I know some of them wouldn’t come. So yeah, maybe. Could be fun.”
I nodded and gave a cursory glance around. “Are you waiting for someone?”
“Er, yeah,” Danny said, but the way he said it meant I didn’t quite believe him. “Been out with Charlie shopping for engagement rings and he wanted to nip up to look in the window of another jeweller a bit further up the hill.”
“You didn’t fancy going with him?”
“Nah, I’ve spent my whole day looking at rings and I’m done. Plus I don’t think he’ll actually buy anything. He’s too scared about getting it wrong.”
“It’s a difficult decision,” I said, trying not to let the memories of picking out Reed’s engagement ring take over.
I let out a slow breath and let them wash over me, passing me by like a wave on the beach as the bartender appeared as promised.
Ordering our drinks was a good distraction, and I could feel Danny’s eyes on me as I tapped my phone on the card reader to pay.
Usually I’d have asked if someone could bring them upstairs, but I wanted to see where this would go. If only for my own amusement.
“What about you? I’m not judging, but I’m guessing those drinks aren’t all for you? But if they are, then have fun,” Danny said as he picked up his drink, still eyeing it with vague suspicion.
“Not just for me. I’m here with some friends. They’ve gone to find seats upstairs while I order more drinks.”
“Smart, that’ll save you getting up again so soon. Although it sucks there’s not a bar upstairs too. You’d think there would be with so many people.”
“Definitely a design flaw.”
“Maybe there’s, like, a QR code on the table where you can order them,” Danny said, lifting the glass to his lips, his moustache brushing over the top of it as he took a small sip.
The corner of his mouth curled in delight and he immediately took another, and when he put the glass down, I noticed some of the creamy coconut concoction clinging to his top lip.
And my mind should not have gone to the places it did.
I swallowed hard and tried to count backwards from a hundred.
I got to ninety-eight.
“I told you it was good,” I said, taking half a step closer and ignoring the warning siren screaming in my ears. “Sometimes you just have to get out and try things. You might surprise yourself and find something you like.”
The bartender appeared with a tray of drinks for me, and I casually picked them up like I’d been planning for the interruption, pretending I hadn’t noticed the stunned blush spreading across the bridge of Danny’s nose.
“Enjoy your drink, Danny. I’ll see you at training next week.
It’ll be good to get you in front of a camera again. ”
I resisted the urge to look back as I walked away, but I could have sworn I heard Danny hiss “motherfucker” under his breath.